


desperate, if nothing else

by celsidebottom



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, basically vesseek's pov on 125/126, no beta we die like romans, obviously, other characters make minor appearances but aren't important really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celsidebottom/pseuds/celsidebottom
Summary: They don’t know what that hooded person - figure - thing - was, or what it wanted, and they really want to get out of here. They don’t think about it- they just run, through more of those damn stone circles, more of those crumbling doorways. Matching pace by pace with Grizzop.
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam & Vesseek
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	desperate, if nothing else

**Author's Note:**

> title is from mercury by sleeping at last

They’re curled up, on the ground. Every part of them aches. They think their hands are bound but they don’t know how to test it without making the pain worse. Faintly they hear footsteps, rapidly approaching. They try to curl up further but suddenly hands are on them and they flinch away until they hear a voice.

“Vesseek!”  
A familiar voice. A voice that sounds like safety and companionship and home. The hands - Grizzop’s hands - move them over to face him, and they could cry with relief as the Lady’s blessing washes over them, curing their wounds and clearing their head. He tears through their bonds and hauls them up onto their feet.

“Vesseek, come on!”  
“R-right - what’s happening?” they ask, craning their neck to look around at the strange assortment of other people with him.  
“No time - you’ve been kidnapped - let’s go!” 

Their hand is still in his - they don’t think he’s noticed, but they have, and they grow glad of it as they notice more about the strange, washed-out place they’re in. Against the dull surroundings, Grizzop glows green, shining out his Lady’s beacon. They’ve never seen him like this before. He looks otherworldly. Almost holy.

The halfling behind them speaks, something about getting to another door. Their head snaps around and they say quickly,  
“I know we’re in a rush - you need to know - there’s no pattern, don’t look for one, it’s just a trap.”  
The halfling seems startled by this, but Grizzop nods, never one to be left behind.  
“Right, cool!”  
Vesseek grins with relief. “Yeah! Let’s get out of here!”  
Grizzop hands them a longsword. They grip it firmly - they never could stand being defenceless.  
“Wicked.”

Someone speaks up from behind them - “Over there!” - and they all start running until they find themselves in another stone circle, with an arrow shot into the ground. The halfling spots something, and they run. Another circle - with a hooded figure, bent over a scrying ball.  
Vesseek stops short at the sight of the figure, eyes wide, gripping the sword tight.

The woman in the dark jacket steps up and with one clean movement drives an icy blue dagger into the figure. It’s like time stops - one moment she’s there, and the next there’s a sound of splintering and shattering and she’s thrown back, limp on the ground next to the halfling, who cries out.  
Grizzop’s eyes narrow as he murmurs something under his breath and his bow seems to come alive as he fires three arrows at the figure with ruthless efficiency. The sudden intensity - Vesseek realises what the woman must mean to him, and they try not to feel anything about the fact that Grizzop has never spoken of her before. Instead they run forward and swing their sword high and wide, trying to do as much damage to this thing as possible.  
The fight ends quickly when a large human man, glowing gold from his armour and his skin and his morningstar, takes a swing, the glow becoming blinding as he hits, and the figure shatters into nothingness. 

Vesseek frowns. None of this makes sense. They don’t know what that hooded person - figure - thing - was, or what it wanted, and they really want to get out of here. They don’t think about it- they just run, through more of those damn stone circles, more of those crumbling doorways. Matching pace by pace with Grizzop.  
They realise they can hear something, just on the edge of their awareness. A sound like footsteps, like something unimaginably huge. A sound like being followed. They put it out of their mind, and they run.

They find an orc, who grins when he sees the Aphrodite paladin. An empty circle - they cry in frustration, they told them there’s no pattern, but they continue. Another halfling, like a smaller version of the first one, and they look ready to cry when they see each other.  
At this, Grizzop turns to the tall elf and snarls, “We’re done here.” She instructs them all to hold hands. Vesseek grabs Grizzop’s, again, and Bi Ming takes their other hand. They all form a circle. Grizzop yells for everyone to close their eyes and not let go. 

Then everything starts to go wrong.  
Vesseek squeezes their eyes shut and gasps at the elf’s yell, a raw cry of exertion and desperation. Something passes through their interlocked hands, buzzing and sharp like electricity. That sound they had heard earlier, of something massive approaching, suddenly is so loud they almost feel it like a physical pressure, and their knees go weak in fear. They’re glad their eyes are closed; they know instinctively this is not something they are meant to see. 

Looking back, they can’t remember exactly what happened. It happened too fast. He was there, and then- well.

Everything starts to go strange in a way they’ve never felt before. They grit their teeth against the nausea as their body seems to stretch in impossible ways. To their horror, they feel Grizzop’s hand start to slip out of theirs, and they scream, incomprehensible, desperately holding on. That stretch, profoundly unnatural, distorts their body, and for a moment they lose all knowledge of where they are, how they work. They hear another scream, high-pitched, from somewhere in-front of them. One of the halflings, they realise. With dread they realise they’ve let go of Grizzop’s hand again, and they turn, grasp wildly, blindly - and suddenly they’re on solid ground.  
They open their eyes and struggle to take in their surroundings - an unfamiliar room, a strange man staring at them. On instinct, they unsheath their sword, and turn to their side, to Grizzop-  
To where Grizzop had been-  
To where Grizzop should have been-  
To the empty space beside them.

The sound of their heartbeat grows louder until it’s all they can hear. He’s not here. He’s gone. They let go of him and now he’s gone. They look frantically around them, at these strangers. Some meet their gaze with pity - others with tears. Grizzop’s companions, they faintly note. Their gaze drifts to Bi Ming, who stares back with a similar empty, lost expression, and they realise that the woman he was with is also gone.  
They don’t even notice their grip loosening until the sword he gave them clatters to the ground, loud against the stone floor. Gone.  
The older halfling rushes over, grief on his face, and hugs them tight, stumbling over reassurances as he holds back tears. They stand, frozen, making no move to hug him back. Their mind seems to stop at that thought, rewind, stop again. They feel like they’re in a dream; half of them present, half of them still struggling to understand. 

The strange new man is talking to them all, explaining. Usually Vesseek would be right there, wanting to know everything, wanting to know how to take the next step and move forward.  
They have no idea how to move forward from here.

They end up sitting next to Bi Ming, eating their stew. Neither talk - they both know what the other is feeling, and they both know how impossible it would be to try and put it into words. They glance at him and wonder vaguely whether Bi Ming understands what went on, with that strange inter-planar travel. Vesseek was never one for arcana; Grizzop always understood more of that stuff. They swallow down the lump in their throat and stare into their bowl.  
They listen to the strange man talking - Europe has fallen, he says. Taken over by strange beings, things that look like people but with blue marks on them, things you can’t trust.

Europe. Amsterdam. Their home. Grizzop.  
They pick up their sword.

\---

Everyone is asleep. The fire has burned low. Carefully, Vesseek reaches into their pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, folded in half and showing wear along the edges, and carefully opens it.  
It’s a photograph of Grizzop and Vesseek, sitting at a cafe. A frozen moment in time - Grizzop’s mouth is open in speech, and Vesseek is laughing. They trace it gently, as if they could reach into it, reach into that world where things were safe, where they had somewhere to go, where Grizzop was with them.  
“Please be okay,” they whisper.


End file.
